Beauty in Innocence - France x Liechtenstein Lemon
by anons of the world
Summary: Eh. What the title says. France realizes that Liechtenstein has grown up, and finds her attractive and whatnot. She feels the same of him, and allows him to show her ... his view of love.


France had come back home after a day of tourism. It was merely gazing at his capital, Paris, and other cities, but it had been certainty worth his time. His country truly was amazing.

The sun setting, France began pulling open the front door. He was surprised to hear two voices coming from his room upstairs- Prussia and Liechtenstein. He wasn't surprised to hear Prussia - he had come to see him this morning, and, being courteous, France had let him stay until he returned. But why was Liechtenstein here?

"Mr. Prussia?" Her words were inquisitive, curious. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," was East Germany's reply, slightly muffled through the walls. "Don't worry. Let me show you."

There was a moment of silence, then Liechtenstein spoke again, a quiet sort of shyness evident in her voice. "Thank you, Mr. Prussia. I've never done this before, so.." Her voice trailed off.

France had heard enough, outraged. What was he thinking, taking advantage of such a sweet, trusting girl? Perhaps she was eighteen, but that was no excuse. This was her first time, wasn't it? Didn't Prussia know better than to force his love on someone, however accepting they may be of it?

He barged into the room, dramatically, crying out, "Stay away from her, Prussia!" Blue eyes flashing, he took in the scene, flushing when he realized that it wasn't what he thought.

Liechtenstein was sitting beside Prussia, head tilted to one side in confusion. The other nation was playing some video game - where had he even gotten that? - without looking up.

Setting down the controller that she had been holding in her hands, Liechtenstein stood. "I'm sorry for coming over without being invited," she murmured, head bowed. "I'm sorry if I angered you."

France couldn't believe what he was seeing. She was the perfect image of pure, unblemished innocence and beauty. Since when was she like this? He only recalled her with a more childish air to her; now she was all elegance and grace, even as she apologized. Could he have somehow missed her blossoming from a girl to a woman, over the past few years?

"No, not at all," he replied graciously. "I don't mind having you here." And he was rewarded with the sight of her smile, as bright and beautiful as the moon in the night sky, but mysterious in its own way. Was that a pale blush on her face? An identical one appeared on his own.

Prussia threw the video game controller onto the bed. "This game is unawesome," he declared loudly, then walked out the door. His wink and sly grin was meant for France's eyes alone, out of Liechtenstein's line of vision. Soon, the front door slammed shut.

France sighed, moving around the younger country to sink down onto his back. He removed his suit jacket, placing it on his bed. He would put it up on a coat hanger later, but for now, it felt too good to move. He hadn't realized how hot he had been feeling, stuffed into that jacket, but now it was a relief. But he realized that he still had a guest here, and reluctantly stood, walking towards his closet. "Let me change into a cooler outfit first, Miss Liechtenstein," he suggested.

She nodded, quite cheerfully. "Of course! I'll be waiting." She sat down on the mattress, as if showing that she wouldn't go anywhere.

God. France turned completely red, thankful that she couldn't see his face. He rushed over to a restroom, to change. Did she even know what it sounded like she was suggesting? Sitting down on his bed, saying that she be waiting - what did she mean she was waiting for? Did she want to ... sleep with him?

No. It couldn't be possible. Someone like her would never think of that. And yet, France found a small bulge in his pants. How was he turned on by the smallest of sentences? It had only been three words. Why did she getting him to feel that way?

He pulled on his new clothes quickly, running a brush through his already perfect hair. Hurrying out, he exhaled in relief, finding her still there.

France put on a smile, striding over. "Good girl. Thank you for waiting." He bent down and patted her head, letting his fingers drag ever-so-slightly through her golden locks before straightening up. In the process, he accidentally knocked her blue ribbon to the floor.

Immediately, he kneeled down to retrieve it. As she bent her head, allowing him to put it back in, he felt his arm brush against her breast, which had grown significantly since he last noticed it. Though France normally wouldn't have stopped, as this wouldn't be considered big in his country, something made him freeze at the same time she did.

"I'm sorry." The words forced themselves from his dry lips. What would she say? Oh, he wouldn't be able to bear it if she snapped at him and stormed off. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything for a moment, and France thought, his heart aching, that he had lost her. But then she spoke, eyes lowered towards the ground and a visible blush tinting her cheeks."I ... don't mind. It's fine. I don't mind, as long as it's ... you." As if the words had been a struggle to get out, her eyes clenched tightly shut.

France would have froze, but then, he was already not moving. But ... what did she say? That she didn't mind him touching her? His breath caught in his throat, even as he felt himself leaning forward. Her eyelids flashed open at the last moment, cerulean orbs meeting jade, before his lips caught hers in a kiss. And both sets of eyes fluttered shut, in bliss.

His palms moved up to cup her face, her hands reaching out to rest against his chest. Their mouths were like separate beings, melting into each other. France's tongue flicked out to lap against her bottom lip, dragging it against the soft flesh. His partner gave a small yelp in surprise, the perfect opportunity for him to enter.

If Liechtenstein knew what heaven felt like, she would have compared it to this. Her first kiss was perfect. France explored her as thoroughly as possible, his tongue filling the walls of her mouth with his taste. Its rough texture was grating against the edges, running smoothly over the other parts, and resting gently on the tip of her own tongue, before leaving.

The world could have stopped and she wouldn't have noticed. And so she was almost oblivious to the feeling of him loosening the ribbon around her collar, pulling off the top of her dress as well as her underclothes. It was only when the cold air hit her breasts that she winced, pulling away.

The man stopped, concern dominating in his gaze. "Are you sure you want this?" Just in case, he began to zip up the back of the dress. He didn't expect Liechtenstein to stop his head, breathing the words no louder than for it to reach his ears as a rose coloured blush formed on her face. "Yes, Mr. France. I want ... this."

In one fluid motion, he pushed her back so that she was lying on the bed, eyes wide with surprise and hesitation, but also longing. His legs were parted, one on either side of her, like an animal. But - she blushed and looked away, unable to meet the intensity of his eyes, it suited him, made him look more rugged, wild.

Off came the dress again, and her bra. He spent a few precious moments teasing her, fondling the mounds, before reaching down and gently taking off her panties.

As her womanhood was exposed before him, Liechtenstein gazed anxiously up at him, as if waiting for his judgement. And that was what he gave to her. With an appreciative noise, he lowered his head and lapped gently at her folds, causing her to flinch. But she didn't move away, her only movement her breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. She must keep her breathing even, or she'd lose her head, go crazy. But she wouldn't be able to keep quiet for much longer; she could feel something build up inside of her.

Before she could figure out what that something was, France pulled away, slightly disappointed at the lack of response. He would give make her scream his name, want him. That determination fueled him, causing him to press himself down against her, re-attach their mouths. And at that same moment he slipped his index finger into her, reveling in her loud gasp and the momentary arch of her back, shoulder blades braced against the bed.

It hurt in a way Liechtenstein never expected. An aching pain, that sort of ebbed away every time he moved. It was almost pleasure, yet the sting never completely left. But she wanted more, craved more of him, and even when he began pumping two fingers in and out of her, creating a moan, it didn't satisfy her enough.

Somehow, France knew what she wanted. Perhaps it was her eyes. Her green eyes, however composed she struggled to be under the circumstances, showed her impatience, how she couldn't stand waiting any longer. Perhaps it was the way her lips formed his name as she panted, trembling as he tugged his fingers out once again.

But no matter what it was, France listened and obeyed. How could he turn her down? His thin shirt he himself removed. He guided her hands to the clasp of his belt, unbuckling it. Her red face only amused him, caused him to kiss her gently on her forehead. "It's alright," he whispered to her, watching as she smiled.

He pushed off his pants, noticing her eyes widen upon seeing the appearance of his boxers, one part in the center sticking out. It was with a trembling hand that, as if she was doing something she never thought she could muster up the courage to do, she reached and pulled down the last garment covering him.  
It was almost glorious, the way he was crouched above her, thick member hardening even more as it touched the air, exposing itself for the world to see. Liechtenstein didn't expect its length and size. She couldn't have, as this was her first time, yet there was reverence in her actions. And she couldn't help but reach out for it, wondering, as if in a dream, what it would feel like. Squeezing it softly, experimentally, a few times, she was glad to see that it was France's turn to groan.

She let go of his shaft and he positioned himself above her entrance. His breath warmed her neck as he asked, "Are you ready, _cheri_?", and she took a deep breath, nodding.

It hurt. Similar to when he was using his fingers, the ache began down at her womanhood. It spread through her body, not letting her move other than clench her hands, grit her teeth. Why hadn't anyone else warned her of this? Why didn't anyone say it would hurt, burn like fire? Or perhaps they had. But what was supposed to take away the pain?

The pain itself was fading away slowly as she got used to him. Yet she still opened her mouth, to ask him one more favor.  
France lay on top of her for a moment, waiting for her next command. He knew she would tell him to do something the instant her lips parted. He knew exactly what she wanted him to do, but waited for her to say it. And she did. "Please, move, Mr. France." Her voice turned pleading. "Please, Francis?"

There was something hot, something sexy in the way she said his name. It was only two syllables, but he had never heard her call him by his human name before. There was something different when she spoke it than when anyone else had. He couldn't place it, but it made him eager to obey her, in everything she said. So he nodded and moved, hips bucking forward.

He started slow, as to make sure it wouldn't hurt as much. When her hands, as if moving of their own accord, entangled themselves in his hair, he took it as his cue to speed up. A sort of urgency emanated from him, pushing him forward with a speed Liechtenstein didn't know anyone could have. Every thrust carried him deeper within her body, closer to her core, nearer to the ache that she longed to be satisfied.

She molded her body to his, moving when he moved. He buried himself in her, and loved it, every moment of it.

Perhaps that was because he was so much like an angel, golden hair spilling over his shoulders, and his jaw clenched. Like he was her personal angel, her guardian angel, come to save her from all her trials. Perhaps it was because he mumbled the words "I love you" aloud, those three special, unique words that she would always hold close to her heart. Perhaps it was the fact that it was like she was becoming one with the nation of France. She was with the mountains and valleys and rivers and seas, all at once. She seemed to understand all of its history, with all the emotion Francis was pouring into his lovemaking: all the trials, the loss, the despair,, but also the joys and happiness. It was as if she had glimpsed into the heart of the country, and she loved it. She loved him. Francis.

Something - that thing that had been building up in her - exploded. It shot out of her as her hips jerked violently forward, carrying all her thoughts and feelings away with it. She knew nothing but the man that held her, calling his name repeatedly. It wasn't long until Francis came, too, filling her with him, until she felt as if she needed nothing more.

There were a few more languid strokes, but there was no more need, as before. He pulled out, soon enough, and they stayed like that, for a long time, France hovering over Liechtenstein. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, and neither of them objected to it.

The phone rang, the sound ringing obnoxiously loud in the still air. France moved first, darting over to the telephone. It rather amused Liechtenstein to see him, clad in nothing, answering it, But, of course, the person on the other end would never know. She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling worn out. She was drifting off, and didn't hear her lover reply, "Oh, good evening Switzerland. Ah? You want to know where your sister is? It is quite late. I wonder why she isn't home yet."

Shouting came from the other side, threatening that if she was at his house ...

France spoke quite easily over him. "I almost forgot." He spared a glance at the body of Liechtenstein, lying on the mattress. "She'll be staying overnight at my place. Goodbye!" The call was ended, and Francis strode over to the bed, swinging himself up. Kissing her forehead, he pulled her closer to him. Her hands unconsciously twined around his neck. A warm, comfortable feeling enveloped her, though she didn't quite know why, having already been pulled into the land of dreams. And as the sun fell below the horizon, the two lovers fell asleep, in each others' arms. where they would be forever be safe.

At least, that was if Switzerland didn't break into the house to rescue his sister.

* * *

No. What did I do? Eh, whatever. I'm don't regret anything. And ... just pretend Liechy is eighteen. Or not, if you'd prefer.  
Anyways, here's a lemon. Go on, enjoy life, have a great day. Love you too! ^^


End file.
